


Clint & Eliot: A long-distance thing

by MissGuenever



Category: Leverage, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 16:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGuenever/pseuds/MissGuenever
Summary: Everyone always assumes that Clint and Eliot are straight arrows.  Though the path they follow isn't so straight, or necessarily so narrow.  They are bound by a very specific set of morals.  And they enjoy each others company whenever and wherever they can be together.  A retrieval specialist, and a multi-talented assassin meeting up for dinner.  Grabbing a few minutes of alone time in the chaos of the world.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Kudos: 7
Collections: Fandoms Challenge 2021





	Clint & Eliot: A long-distance thing

Eliot was spinning a pen around in his fingers as he stared at the croissant that Amy had brought him and pondered a daily special for the brew pub the next day. They had extra corned beef; he could do a breakfast for dinner thing of corned beef hash, and eggs. The last time they’d done the special it had been Spam, eggs and sticky rice. It had gone over really well. The hitter’s phone buzzed breaking his train of thought. Eliot glared at the stupid smart phone thing that Hardison said he needed. He didn’t need all the bells and whistles it had, and the eighty million layers of security, a simple burn phone worked great. But, no… Hardison had to make that they were all outfitted in the latest in Stark technology, so much better than Apple.

He went back to staring at the stupid soggy croissant; maybe they could do a Reuben sandwich with seasoned potato wedges or corned beef hash with eggs. Looking at the paper he thought ‘Parker really liked the potato wedges.’ Yes, this was a good choice. He picked up the phone at looked at it, fully planning to ignore whomever was on the other end: Clint, okay he was worth talking too.

He brushed his fingers over the screen, and debated how to respond to “Noodles, 431 Lombard St; 1700PST.” You could always tell when Clint was jet-lagged; he added the time zone – the time zone he thought he was in. Which was a good thing, once they had planned to meet in Kamchatka Krai, (Russia) which was Universal Coordinated Time (UTC) plus twelve hours; and he’d typed UTC plus two. Yeah, that was Poland. Luckily they’d made it work, and met in Kazakhstan for a few hours. A few hours, or a day or two were the most they ever got.

Aktauwasn’t exactly a center of culture. It was a port city that thrived on commerce. There had been a clean hotel room; and a few decent meals. Not that they had ventured out too much. They assuaged their hunger in a different way, they’d checked each other for new scars and injuries, and explored the ever changing landscape of each other’s body. It had been a good time.

Everyone usually assumed that Eliot was straight. Straight and narrow. Following a straight and narrow path. Well, he did follow a straight and narrow path; he had a very solid sense of morality. He just wasn’t straight in the straight sense of the word. The hitter stroked his phone; he was looking forward to an evening of just the two of them. 

It hadn’t happened in a while. There was DC after that silly reporter’s conspiracy theories, then those couple days in Boston when Clint couldn’t get out because of a snow storm. And one or two times a year after Boston. Their schedules didn’t mesh too often. 

The hitter told Parker and Hardison that he had gym time someone from the service (he might have led them to think Ray). They usually respected his gym time, usually was the key. Eliot just hoped that today they would respect his (slightly off schedule) gym time. Working (and living) with Parker and Hardison was always an interesting challenge. No one respected borders, or personal space. The hitter shook his head at "personal space," three days ago Parker had announced that she needed Strawberry Quik, the breakfast drink powder. Umm... that had been interesting, in all kinds of pretzel ways.

Eliot parked his truck a block away and walked; parking had been a bit of a challenge. But, it always was in downtown Portland; and the walk had been nice, and it made sure that no one was following him. Drunken Noodle, that figured, Clint always went for the restaurants with interesting names. He dropped a shoulder remembering both the good meals and the not-so-good meals they’d had. The Pink Cow Cafe, had given them both food poisoning; but, that place in Miami, Area 31, had some great ceviche. 

The hitter pushed open the door and saw the archer sitting in a back corner with a plate of larb in front of him. Eliot wasn’t too fond of larb, that time in Laos had kind of spoiled him on it. Clint kinked his head at a plate of chicken satay, and Eliot bobbed his chin and sat down next to the Avenger. Their fingers touched under the table. It was going to be a good night.

"A good night indeed." Clint hummed in agreement to Eliot's head bob.

**Author's Note:**

> I love the Eliot/Hardison/Parker trio, and I think that Eliot needs his space. I guess that somehow these can coexist. Although if I was them, I wouldn't share. Anyway if you found this a bit interesting (I like to write soothing interludes), go look at the the series Luxury and Loss. And while I so want this to be part of that series; it just doesn't work.


End file.
